He’s trapped.

Behind the long hair and pronounced curves, he begged for freedom.

A prisoner of hers though he held no resentment.

She’s lovely; how could he resent her?

The way her long golden hair framed her face and shoulders.

The way her waist dipped in before rounding out her hips.

Her soft hands with short fingers.

It was all so pretty, but it hid him away.

His thin hands with slender fingers.

His broad shoulders and little waist.

His short and shaggy hair that hung in his face and hid his eyes.

He was so different from her and yet he couldn’t see it.

Day in and day out he lived through her gorgeous frame.

He greeted people with her delicate fingers and then tucked her hair behind her ear with the same motion.

He swung her hips to avoid hitting things that invaded her space.

Her clothes framed her body so well which only hid him further away.

Unable to see himself in life, but finally seen when she looked in the mirror.

His eyes looked back at her.

His eyes impossible to ignore, screamed for release.

His unhappiness dulled her smile.

His discomfort altered her wardrobe.

His yearned to be free, but he couldn’t take that away from her.

She who had done nothing wrong.